


Twining Hands

by princesskay



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Adult Content, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, M/M, Memory Loss, Space Husbands, Vulcan Kisses, Vulcan hand sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-28 23:29:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3873958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesskay/pseuds/princesskay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While on the hunt for two humpbacked whales named George and Gracie, Jim and Spock discover something else that was missing</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twining Hands

“ _Your hand touching mine. This is how galaxies collide.”_

_-Sanober Khan_

 

Jim Kirk hummed low in his throat as the hot water pounded soothingly across his bare shoulders and the back of his head. Soap suds ran in rivulets down his body, cleaning away that day's sweat and dirt.

These Klingon showers aboard the U.S.S. Bounty weren't half bad, despite Jim's preconceived notions that Klingons were unclean, smelly creatures who had no need for bathing. The cubicle was quite large, to accommodate the broad shoulders of the Klingons, and the soap had a strange, tingling affect on his skin. Combined with the hot water, it soothed back his worries about securing the whales and making it home in time.

Jim lingered in the shower as long as he dared, knowing someone would probably be waiting outside his quarters to ask a dozen questions about their mission. The hitches in the plan were numerous and growing, much to his chagrin. Getting back to the twenty-third century seemed much more difficult than he had originally accepted.

Stepping out of the shower, Jim patted away some of the water and wrapped the towel about his waist. The doors swished open, and he stepped into his quarters, where the lights were dimmed except for the red beam of an overhead fixture.

Jim squinted against the red tint of the light when he noticed a white-robed figure standing next to the bed. Walking closer, Jim could see that Spock was inspecting the items Jim had placed on the shelf just above the bed. It was the few things he had left over from the destruction of the _Enterprise_ and a few trinkets he had acquired during their three month stay on Vulcan. 

“Spock?” Jim asked, instinctively clutching the towel tighter about his waist. 

They had shared only a handful of kisses since they had brought Spock back from the dead. Jim was hesitant to know where Spock stood with their relationship, but now that Spock had let himself into Jim's quarters, he felt even more uneasy. 

Spock turned slowly, his eyes dark and deep under the scarlet light. 

“Admiral.” He said, quietly, then frowned as he added, “Jim.”

“What do you need?” Jim asked, “Is there something to report with the crystals?”

“No, the status has not changed since your return.”

Jim swallowed against a dry throat and glanced around the room. The indicator by the door blinked red to show that it was sealed shut. 

“What is it then?” He asked, quietly. 

“Was your visit with Miss Taylor helpful?” Spock asked. 

“I think I made some headway.”

Spock frowned and pursed his lips momentarily in a way that indicated to Jim that he was thinking deeply on a subject that disturbed him. 

“What is it?” Jim repeated. 

“I do not mean to be intrusive,” Spock said, stepping closer to Jim, “But I am curious as to your intentions toward her.” 

Jim blinked in confusion for a few moments before he sputtered, “You mean … you're asking if I... Romantically?”

“Your behavior closely matched the textbook definition of an Earth tradition of … flirting.” Spock replied, his eyebrow rising.

“Flirting, Spock ...” Jim began, shaking his head. 

His chuckle withered as Spock gazed at him, more offended than confused by the amusement. 

“I, um ...” Jim muttered, scratching the back of his neck, “Spock, you've got it wrong.”

“The intention is not inconsistent with previous behaviors.” Spock pointed out.

“Yes, I'll admit to that.” Jim conceded, “But this time, I'm not interested in courting the young lady. I simply want those whales so we can get back home and perhaps contact the probe.”

“You have no intention of having sexual relations with her?” Spock asked. 

“No.” Jim said, firmly, “Not at all. Besides, Gillian belongs here, in the twenty-first century; not in our world.”

“Mmm.” Spock hummed, as if considering whether or not to believe him. 

“Spock ...” Jim said, his eyes widening, “Are you …  _jealous_ ?”

“Jealousy.” Spock objected, his brows drawing tight, “Perhaps one of the most destructive of human emotions; I would not subject myself to it. It was a matter of principle to ask whether Miss Taylor's presence would affect our current mission.”

“I see.” Jim murmured, raising his brows. 

“I will take my leave, then.” Spock added. 

He marched toward the door, but Jim caught his arm before he could unseal the doors. 

“Spock,” He whispered, dragging Spock about to face him, “Spock.”

Gazing into Spock's dark eyes, he could see a question lying there, and perhaps an answer too. Maybe Spock didn't have all of his memories or facts back in his brain, but there were certain impulses and desires engrained in the soul that cannot be erased even by death. 

This was the part of Spock that Jim had been searching for the moment Spock had given him hope by remembering his name. 

“Maybe you can't remember everything about us before you … you died.” Jim whispered, “But if I could show you everything right now, you would see that I'm not interested in anyone else.”

“Anyone else?” Spock asked.

“Anyone but you.” Jim said, pressing closer, “Gillian … she's nothing romantic to me; she's the one person who can get us those whales. I'd treat anyone else just the same if they could help us save Earth.”

“I told you, I am not jealous.” Spock replied.

“And I'm telling you, I don't believe you.”

Silence settled between them for several moments. Spock attempted to pull away, but Jim clutched his hand, pulling Spock's knuckles to his mouth. 

“Do you remember us touching like this?” Jim asked, quietly, his lips brushing over Spock's fingertips, “Making love?”

“Admiral,” Spock began, his fingers curling away from Jim's mouth. 

“It's Jim, Spock.” Jim insisted, forcing Spock's fingers to his lips, “Please, remember. I know it is in there somewhere; embedded in your soul, waiting to be released.”

Spock let out a quiet moan as Jim's fingers caressed over his, sparking across the open, sensitive nerves at his fingertips. His eyelids fluttered closed for several seconds before jarring open at the touch of Jim's tongue across the delicate skin. 

He ripped his hand away and turned his back to Jim. His shoulders rose and fell sharply beneath the heavy, white robe. For a moment, Jim wondered if he had pushed too far. 

“I'm sorry.” He whispered, “You just don't understand what it's like to have a lifetime of emotions, memories … love for someone who can't remember more than your rank.”

Spock turned sharply, his expression stony. 

“I did not ask for this.” He said, “I gave my life willingly because it was the logical choice, and I would make the same decisions again if it were required of me. I only ever meant for my katra to be carried by Dr. McCoy so that it could be laid to rest on Vulcan; the Genesis project regenerated my body by default.”

“We saved your life, Spock.” Jim whispered, harshly, “You're standing here now because we risked our lives to save you. You're telling me it's not what you really wanted?”

“I am saying ...” Spock let out a sigh. His next words were spoken in a low whisper, “If I could choose to remember everything that you do, I would. However, the circumstances prevent me from … feeling the way you do.”

Jim sighed and drew a hand over his brow. 

“I'm sorry. You have gone through a lot; I know my pain is no worse than yours.”

He sank to the edge of the bed and cradled his head in his hands. He fought back a surge of emotion that could no doubt inundate him if he allowed it. He had shed far too many tears for his lost love when new opportunities stood before him. 

This was the same man he had always loved. Just a tarnished, more broken version that needed Jim now more than ever. 

Jim lifted his head sharply when he felt Spock's hand on his shoulders. The Vulcan gazed down at him, his right hand extended to Jim. 

“The manner in which your fingers touched mine were very pleasing.” Spock murmured.

Jim swallowed hard, feeling heat rise quickly up his neck and cheeks. 

“Sit down.” He whispered, hoarsely. 

Spock sat down next to him, keeping his right arm extended in invitation. 

Jim smiled, briefly and reached up to untie the make shift bandana around Spock's forehead and ears. 

“Take this off.” He murmured, casting the strip of cloth aside, “I want to see you. All of you.”

He brushed his fingers of the pointed tips of Spock's ears, relishing the texture and shape he hadn't had the joy of touching in quite some time. 

Spock shivered lightly, and a frown creased his brow. 

“It has a strange affect.” He whispered, “Your touch.”

“Does it?” Jim asked, reaching down to take Spock's extended hand, “Before, you called it stimulating.”

Spock swallowed hard as Jim's fingertips drew a soft line up the center of his palm and up the curve of his fingers. Jim's eyes flicked between Spock's surprised expression and the smooth, pale skin of his palm. His heart pounded wildly, expecting Spock to turn away, overwhelmed at any moment. 

Instead, Spock's hand shifted closer as Jim's touch danced across the tips of his fingers, locating the most sensitive points. He drew in a quiet gulp and lowered his head. His opposite hand reached across Jim's thigh and curled around the towel to form a shaking fist. 

Emboldened, Jim dragged Spock's hand closer and quickened his movements. He traced back down Spock's palm to his wrist, stroking the tender skin where a pulse beat fast with racing, Vulcan blood. Swirling his fingertips over the heel of Spock's hand, he treated each inch of flesh until he reached the long, slender fingers. Spock's fingers twitched in anticipation and pleasure as Jim slowly drew the side of his index along the inside of Spock's fingers, slowing to a crawl once he neared the tips. 

Spock let out an explosive breath he seemed to have been holding once Jim's caress dragged slowly, enticingly across all four of Spock's fingertips. His hand curled tighter around the fabric of the towel, slowly pulling it away from Jim's thigh. Jim's heart spike as the towel loosened from around his waist, barely draping across his opposite thigh and loins. 

“Jim...” Spock's voice quavered as he ground out Jim's name. 

“Don't fight it.” Jim murmured, drawing Spock's hand closer to his mouth. 

Spock's eyes remained focused on his lap as Jim dragged two of his fingers over Spock's fingertips and down his knuckles. The caress slid all the way down the back of Spock's hand to his wrist, before making it's ascent back to the fingertips in a slow, hypnotic manner. 

Spock's lips slid open in a quiet gasp. His fingers latched onto Jim's bare thigh, forcing a flush of pleasure through Jim's body. His erection pressed at the slipping towel, daring the material to fall away and leave his pleasure visible. It took all his focus to restrict his movements to the slow, rhythmic caress of the Vulcan mating ritual. As much as he wanted to throw Spock down and have him, he knew he could miss this chance entirely if he disregarded the Vulcan way. 

“Jim,” Spock whispered, his head slowly lifting. 

“Yeah?” Jim asked, pausing his fingertips against Spock's. 

“I am ...” Spock whispered, his frown deepening, “My body … is ...”

“It's natural. Don't worry.” Jim replied, glancing at Spock's lap.

The lump was obvious, hot Vulcan blood making his large member squirm with need. The very sight almost made Jim's control snap, but the panicked look in Spock's eyes held his raging desire at bay.

“I'll slow down.” Jim suggested, though the very thought made him cringe, “We don't have to rush.”

“No.” Spock blurted, his hand shoving closer to Jim's, “This is … this is how it is done.”

Jim smiled softly and bent his head to kiss Spock's fingertips, “We can do it any way we like.”

Spock's jaw clenched as the soft, moist texture of Jim's lips caressed across the open, raw nerves at his fingertips. So much energy lay there, he almost always restricted touch for fear of being overwhelmed, but the torturous chafe of Jim's caress caused pleasure in the strangest, most glorious way.

“You always liked this.” Jim murmured. 

He gauged Spock's expression as he kissed each fingertip gently, moving back and forth methodically. 

“I do.” Spock corrected, watching in fascination as Jim's full lips pressed against his skin. 

Jim blew a hot breath over Spock's index finger before slowly parting his lips around the digit. Spock's hand stiffened in his grasp as he sucked the tip of Spock's finger into his mouth and clamped his lips in a tight suction about it. Spock's eyes slammed shut and his nails dug into Jim's thigh for several long, silent moments before Jim slowly drew back, allowing Spock's finger to pop wetly from the hot seal of his lips. 

“And that?” He whispered.

“It is … most pleasurable.” Spock replied, quietly, his eye brow rising in surprise. 

Jim smirked, “That's what you said the first time.”

Moving to the second finger, he sucked it past his lips. This time, he bobbed his head slightly, moving his mouth up and down Spock's finger at various lengths. 

Spock's back arched and his head tilted back as a low moan emitted from his lips. His fingers tore away from Jim's thigh to tear at his robes, pulling the chafing material back from his throbbing erection. Jim sucked off Spock's finger, panting in exhilaration. He took the third finger, but his eyes were fixed on Spock's erection, pressing stiff against his flat, quivering stomach, thick with pumping, green veins and writhing as if alive. 

Spock moaned, his hand twisting against Jim's face and shoved his finger deeper into Jim's mouth. Jim grasped Spock's wrist with both hands, holding superior strength at bay as he sucked down on the smallest finger. Saliva coated each finger, leaving the twisting, shivering hand gleaming in the low, red lighting, swiping helplessly across Jim's cheek. 

The harder Jim sucked the stronger Spock's reactions became, until the heel of his hand was pressed firmly against Jim's chin, nearly forcing his pinky finger from the confines of Jim's mouth. Jim held on tight, knowing if he let go or stopped, he ran the risk of being struck brutally in the face. It wouldn't be the first time he had walked away with a bloody nose. 

Jim tore his lips from Spock's smallest finger and forced Spock's hand about so that he could capture the final digit. Spock's thumb slipped past Jim's lips and and arched down against his tongue, fighting and writhing against the pleasure. Energy flowed strong here, Jim knew; it had always been Spock's undoing. Drawing his lips tight around Spock's thumb, Jim increased the pressure and the pace of his sucking, breaking down the last of Spock's defenses. 

Suddenly, Spock's struggling ceased, and his body went stiff. The moaning broke off into short, breathless gasps as his body toppled back against the bed sheets. 

Jim watched with a mixture of pleasure and surreality as Spock's body twisted violently across the bed and a rain of thick, milky release jetted across his stomach and chest. Jim clutched Spock's hand tight against his cheek as the Vulcan spasmed and writhed through the powerful orgasm that clutched him for several long moment.

Jim could hardly breathe as he watched his efforts come to fruition. No matter the shock or the height of pleasure that Vulcan sexuality offered humans, the affects still dimmed and faded after a long, uninterrupted absence and the pain of losing a mate. The details of their private moments and unique way of making love burst fresh across his mind and body like a splash of paint across a clean canvas, pleasuring and fulfilling him anew. 

The pounding in his heart was not out of fear or concern as at the beginning of the encounter, but out of love and hope that had lain in the dark far too long. 

As Spock's body ceased it's shaking and lapsed against the sheets, Jim sank down next to him. 

“Jim,” Spock whispered, lifting a shaking hand. 

“Spock, I'm here.” Jim whispered, grabbing onto Spock's hand, “I'm with you.”

“How did I forget?” Spock whispered, touching Jim's cheek with his other hand, “This sweet pleasure is more than the sands of home, any vastness of knowledge, or the purity of logic. My  _t'hy'la._ ”

“You didn't forget.” Jim whispered, “You were just gone for a bit, but you're home now.”

“I am quite content.” Spock agreed. 

Jim hesitated only a second before pressing his mouth against Spock's in a human kiss. Spock's reaction was delayed, but his lips quickly softened to accept the deep, longing caresses and the occasional flick of Jim's tongue. 

When Jim drew back, he couldn't contain his smile. 

“I was looking for you.” He whispered, caressing Spock's cheek, “I think I finally found you.”

“You found me the moment you lifted me from the wreckage of Genesis.” Spock murmured.

Jim's smile widened, “I should have had more faith.”

Glancing down Spock's cum spattered chest, he yanked the towel away from his waist. 

“I don't think I need this anymore.” He chuckled, extending it to Spock. 

“Thank you.” 

Spock accepted the towel and proceeded to wipe the release from his skin. He sat up slowly, his gaze creeping over Jim's naked body. 

“You are … engorged, as I was.” He observed.

Jim blushed and ducked his head, “To put it bluntly. That Vulcan ritual doesn't do it just for you, ya know?”

“I shall employ my limited knowledge of human sexual ritual to satisfy you.” Spock replied.

Throwing the towel aside, he slid to the floor on his knees and ducked his head toward Jim's straining cock. 

“Wait,” Jim said, catching Spock's face with both hands, “You don't have to do that.”

“You have completed my culture's mating ritual.” Spock replied, frowning, “Logically, the scales should be balanced by my compliance to complete Terran ritual.”

“No, I mean ...” Jim stroked Spock's lower lip with his thumb, “... you don't have to with your mouth. I know it's not your favorite. Just touch me with your hands … like I did.”

“Very well.” Spock agreed.

Warm and steady, Spock's palms settled against Jim's knees and slowly scaled upward, grazing the tender insides of Jim's thighs. Jim shivered and urged his legs apart, giving Spock's hands adequate room to touch him. 

The delicate caress sizzled across his nerve endings, sending sparks of pleasure deep into his core, pressing fresh blood to his full, straining cock. His hips tilted forward as Spock's hands drew closer, teasing the soft skin just beside the base of his cock. 

“Oh, Spock.” He groaned, tilting his head back, “You enjoy torturing me too much.”

“I do not enjoy your suffering in any way.” Spock replied, stroking his thumb back and forth, “Your patience is simply in short supply.”

“It is.” Jim grunted from between clenched teeth, “ _Very_ … _short_ …  _supply_ .”

A gasp overwhelmed further argument as Spock's hand rose up to capture the throbbing shaft. His hips bucked forward, propelled by the shock of pleasure that rippled through his body. Spock's hands had always been able to evoke more pleasure than Jim could handle, but the absence that yawned between them for more than three months left his body sensitive to Vulcan energy. 

Spock's hand pumped leisurely along the shaft, keeping a steady but unhurried pace while Jim panted and moaned. Thrusting his hips against Spock's hand, Jim whined for even more, but Spock was unmoved by the display. His expression remained stoically focused, his eyes intent upon the rhythmic movements of his hand over Jim's straining flesh. 

The pleasure rose like a tide in Jim's body, pounding against his tender flesh, aching for release. His hips twisted and thrust into the caress, but the pleasure remained at the fringes of his mind, teasing him. Spock measured out the energy in his fingertips, just enough to leave Jim panting and on the edge, not enough to tip him over the pleasure line. 

Spock watched in fascination as Jim's body trembled and squirmed, gleaming in the red lighting with a layer of exhilarated perspiration. 

“So tender.” He murmured, casting a gaze at the thick pulsing rod of velvety skin and stiff veins swallowed in his fist, “So tender, like a flower ...”

Jim's eyes cracked open to gaze down at him, glazed over with lust and hypnotized by Vulcan touch. 

“Yes.” He urged in a husky whisper. 

“A flower, dripping heavy with pollen.” Spock murmured. 

His thumb dragged across the swollen tip, finding leaking moisture that smelled as heady as the scent he described. Jim cried out, his body lurching at the smallest, chafing caress. 

He trembled uncontrollably, on the brink of pleasure. So close, he could scream. So far away, and yet he couldn't do anything more than moan and beg. 

Spock's hand shifted into a faster pace, rubbing almost harshly over the thick, steely shaft. The tender skin burned with friction, and yet it escaped Jim's notice in favor of the pleasure that lurked just beyond. He panted, sweated, strained for it, focusing solely on the clamping muscles and deep, needy tingles in his groin. 

“Spock, please ...” He moaned, “Please, I-”

Spock's hand shifted tighter, faster, and Jim needed no more. The slightest change in pressure sent the climax spiraling out of his control through his body, exploding from his core and charging outward to the tip of his fingers and toes. His back arched sharply and he fell back on his elbows, his body spasming and bucking of his it's own accord. The pleasure tore through him with the force of a storm, destroying his defenses and leaving him helpless and adrift. Falling to his back against the sheets, Jim whimpered through the last of spasms that lingered with the touch of Spock's hand against his spent cock. 

“Oh ...” Jim groaned, quietly. 

He slowly opened his eyes to see Spock hovering over him with the towel. His eyes were focused as he wiped the release from Jim's heaving chest and the few drops that his landed on his cheek. 

“Thank you.” Jim whispered with a weary smile. 

Spock discarded the towel when he was done and drew in a deep breath. 

“And now, we will commence in a human ritual called … cuddling?” 

Jim fought back a burst of laughter at Spock's obvious distrust of the act. 

“I would love to.” He replied, forcing himself upright, “However, if my memory serves correctly, we still have to save the world. I'm no doubt needed on the bridge.”

“Quite correct.” Spock agreed, “Mr. Scott also requires my assistance.”

“You can use my shower, if you like.” Jim said, waving a hand toward the bathroom.

“I shall. Thank you.” 

Jim stood up, and paused when he felt his knees quiver weakly. 

“Do you require assistance?” Spock asked, rushing to Jim's side to hold his elbow. 

“I'm fine.” Jim smiled, “You leave me breathless, that's all.”

“To leave you breathless would deprive you of life sustaining oxygen.” Spock pointed out with a frown. 

“I mean, it was good.” Jim said, laying a kiss on Spock's cheek, “I'll just leave it at that, since most Earth idioms wouldn't make much sense to you.”

“I doubt they would.” Spock agreed, “It is pleasing to me that you are satisfied.”

“Me too.” Jim smiled, “Next time, let's not take three months in between before doing it again.”

“I have no intention.” Spock said, utterly serious. 

“Good, I don't think I could wait.” 

This time, Jim pressed his mouth against Spock's, locking them in a deep kiss that almost made up for their lost time. Spock's two fingers brushed against his own, pulling their hands upright in the Vulcan way of kissing. Connected these two ways, Jim felt his heart become whole once more. 

 

The end

 

 


End file.
